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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26925154">itch/scratch</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/cupidsintern/pseuds/cupidsintern'>cupidsintern</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>also on tumblr! [15]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Stranger Things (TV 2016)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Developing Relationship, Love Bites, M/M, Robin Buckley &amp; Steve Harrington Friendship, Secret Relationship</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-10-10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-10-10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-07 02:00:59</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,067</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26925154</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/cupidsintern/pseuds/cupidsintern</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>“So what's her name?” Robin’s practically painting Steve’s neck, tugging his shirt collar to the side a little. </p>
<p>“Hm?” Steve asks, playing dumb like his blood didn’t just run cold. </p>
<p>“The girl, stupid” Robin jabs her finger into one of the bruises, makes Steve wince. “The reason you keep asking me to help you cover these up. Who is she?”</p>
<p>Steve opens his mouth, closes it. Blows air out with his teeth closed, grimaces. “I… can’t. Tell you that.”</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Billy Hargrove/Steve Harrington</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>also on tumblr! [15]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1725826</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>212</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>itch/scratch</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    
<p></p><div class="">
  <p>Steve just comes to school early at this point. He knows Robin’s there, knows what secluded part of the library she’s in, so he can duck behind the shelves and make sure no one sees him a) going into the library b) meeting up with Robin because she said to ‘keep it lowkey’ and c) desperately pulling up the edge of his crew neck like it would do anything to hide the pinkpurpleblue absolute <em>mess</em> of hickeys up to his jaw. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He specifically said it was too hot to wear a sweater, anything with a <em>real</em> collar. Like a collar would help with the edge of his right earlobe that was welted with an actual teeth mark. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>But, and he could admit this to himself- Steve wasn't, great with impulse control? Like how he’d stay up too late on school nights. Or spend too much on a category of hair products, candles, and a variety of other things he called ‘smell-goods.’ Or go from ‘<em>don’t mark me up its literally a school night</em>’ to ‘<em>bite me- fuck- Billy- </em>please’ in like, four minutes. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Robin wasn't surprised when Steve came stumbling around one of the too-old too-industrial bookshelves, was already pulling out her makeup bag when he sat down and went “hey I brought you coffee" and she cut him off with a "show me your neck, dingus.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Steve had been surprised the first time Robin had come to his rescue- ‘you’re damn lucky we’re close to the same skin tone’- because he didn't even know she wore makeup. Then she called him ‘such a boy’ and said just because she wasn’t glammed out didn't mean she wasn't wearing concealer. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Concealer was now something Steve knew a lot about. And had a lot of respect for. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>They were friends besides this now, him and Robin. And mostly she’d ask him about other things, make fun of him for other things, but today-</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“So what's her name?” Robin’s practically painting Steve’s neck, tugging his shirt collar to the side a little. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Hm?” Steve asks, playing dumb like his blood didn’t just run cold. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“The girl, stupid” Robin jabs her finger into one of the bruises, makes Steve wince. “The reason you keep asking me to help you cover these up. Who is she?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Steve opens his mouth, closes it. Blows air out with his teeth closed, grimaces. “I… can’t. Tell you that.”</p>
  <p>“What?” Robin leans back, looks only marginally offended. “What do you mean? We’ve been friends for ages.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“A month is not ages, Robin.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Time is fake.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“You can’t keep saying that when I say how long things are.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“<em>Au contraire, mon amie</em>.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Dude, <em>what</em>?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“It’s french.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“I got that, the fuck does it mean?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“It means like, ‘on the contrary’.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Oh.” Steve can't think of anything smarter to say. His neck itches, but last time he tried to scratch it after Robin had fixed him up she slapped his hand. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Yeah.” Robin snaps her foundation closed. “So what's her name? She’s a biter, whoever she is.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Like I said,” Steve readjusts his collar. “I can’t tell you.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“What if I figure it out?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“I,” Steve drags out the vowel. “Don’t think you will.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Why not?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>That’s a weirdly sideways question. “She- uh. Doesn't go here.” Oh ok so he’s <em>lying</em> lying. Really doubling down.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“That’s a lie.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“What? No-”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“I can always tell when you’re lying.” Robin raises her eyebrow. “So she goes here. Is she in your grade?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Steve hesitates for a second before responding “No-?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Another lie. Geez, you’re bad at this.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Ok, seriously fuck you.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Robin laughs. “Goes here, in your grade.” She taps her chin exaggeratedly. “Got any classes together?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Yes.” Steve gives up lying for a second, thinking about how he’s going to see Billy in like five minutes- is just waiting for the bell ring so he can book it to class, sit next to Billy in the back of the room, let Billy kick his shoes so he can kick back or watch Billy track across his complexion looking for the marks he left last night or pass notes like ‘<em>how'd you sleep</em>’ and ‘<em>busy later</em>’ or-</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Before or after lunch?” Robin snaps his attention back.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Before.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Hmmm. First period?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Steve’s neck itches worse now. He really wishes he could scratch it.  “Yep and that's it. That's all you're going to know about- about her. So-”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Robin’s eyebrows shoot up, then furrow. “Wait-”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>No one was <em>that</em> smart, Robin couldn't have possibly got it just from <em>that</em>.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Steve keeps going. “And looks like I should get to class soon, so-”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Steve.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Robin.” Steve drums his fingers on the library table. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Robin looks like she’s thinking really hard really quickly. She opens her mouth to speak- and the bell rings. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Steve is up and out of his chair, backpack slung over his shoulder in a second.“Thank you, again. You’re, uh- you're a lifesaver. See you later, probably, I should go-”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“We should talk more later!” Robin calls after him as he retreats. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Maybe!” He calls back. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>And maybe he’d want to talk to Robin about it. Maybe he wouldn't. She won’t rat him out or anything, but it still feels… Weird. To talk about. Say out loud. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>And he has to go to class anyway.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He’s there before Billy, can’t help but stare at him when he finally walks in. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Hey,” Steve’s probably too quick to say that. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Billy looks at him sideways after sitting down. “Howdy.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Billy kicks his foot. He shoves back. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“You left your<em> New Order</em> tape in my car.” Billy says after a second.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Oh,” Steve forgot how fucking much hickeys <em>itch</em>. It’s hard to focus on anything else. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“You could come get it later, if you want.” Billy still isn't looking at him directly- he almost never looks at Steve at school. Like he’s afraid of being caught just looking. “I don’t bite.” he murmurs that last part, so only Steve can hear the lie. It twists Steve's stomach into all kinds of knots, totaling his train of thought until the only coherent thing in the smoking wreckage is that fucking <em>itch</em>- <em>itchitchitch. </em></p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“I do really like that tape.” Steve says after a pause. God, he’s gonna <em>die</em>. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Then Billy smiles at his desk, Steve can see his eyes go brighter, sharper, how his teeth show, how his brow quirks like he’s won something-</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>
    <em>Scratch. </em>
  </p>
</div>
  </div></div>
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